It's Not Christmas if the Snow Don't Fall
by iamdelilah
Summary: Bucky decided to break the tradition of not giving Steve a Christmas present. Steve/Bucky.


_Title taken from Colbie Calliat's "Mistletoe." Unbeta'd so any and all mistakes are my own._

* * *

It had been a tradition Steve and Bucky to go see the Christmas lights in Dyker Heights for the past two years. With money as tight as it was, they couldn't afford a cab to the district and the walk from their apartment to Steve's favorite house at 12th Avenue and 84th street was brutal on an average night. The gusting winds weren't making things any easier. He and Bucky had bundled up but that didn't keep Steve from shivering violently Steve his coat.

Bucky observed Steve's tremors for less than a minute before he shed his coat and draped it over Steve's shoulders. Bucky had worn several layers and was prepared for the unrelenting wind chill, as was Steve, but Steve's body type often prevented him from staying warm despite his efforts.

Steve emitted a muted sigh because as much as he resented his need for his boyfriend's coat, he was eternally grateful for the added warmth. He stole a glimpse at his much taller boyfriend and felt a little less guilty when he saw that Bucky didn't seem uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and sputtered a quiet 'thank you' with his head turned the opposite direction.

Steve hadn't really meant for Bucky to hear him, but Bucky didn't miss a beat as he snaked an arm around Steve's neck and pulled him into his side. In return, Steve wrapped his own arm around Bucky's waist.

"You know I could never let you freeze," Bucky said, lightly grazing Steve's blond hair with a barely-there kiss. "Don't worry about me, though. I dressed plenty warm."

"I still feel bad," Steve disclosed.

"You don't need to get sick like last year."

Steve signed in acknowledgement. "Yeah, but you're always taking care of me."

"I don't take care of you. You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself."

Steve knew Bucky was merely sweet talking him but that didn't stop a grin from spreading across his thin, chapped lips. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to woo me."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Bucky cooed.

"Oh, I don't know. You've only been trying to since you first laid eyes on me." It was true; Bucky had been trying to pursue Steve from the beginning. He wasn't successful until he showed up at the bookstore Steve worked at asking for a date. Even then, Bucky utilized a cup of coffee to sway Steve's decision. Steve hadn't been on a date with anyone prior, especially someone like Bucky and, initially, Steve wasn't sure what to think. Ultimately, he allowed things to play out on their own and roughly three years later they decided to move in together.

"It looks better than it did last year," Bucky noted. For a moment Steve was confused until his footsteps ceased and he looked up. He hadn't realized they already had reached his favorite house. His eyes swept over every twinkling light and his gazed in awe at the size of the house, as he did every year. He always seemed to forget just how extravagant it was.

"Okay, but is it really necessary to put two wreaths in every window?" Steve muttered after a moment, slightly perturbed and definitely not jealous of the elaborate décor.

Bucky shrugged and cocked his head a little. "Looks alright to me."

_It would_, Steve thought. "That's because you have very little knowledge about symmetry or the power of placement. It's all wrong and overdone."

The taller man resisted the urge to roll his eyes because he kind of enjoyed the way Steve flustered at everything he considered art. He didn't try to argue because he knew Steve would stump him with his knowledge of art theory. In lieu of arguing Bucky nosed the top of Steve's blond hair before tugging him along, saying, "C'mon, it's only gonna get colder."

By the time they looped back to their apartment it was midnight, a fresh blanket of snow began to fall, and Steve was certain he had never been so cold in his twenty-something years of life. He retreated to the bedroom immediately. It always stayed warmer than the rest of their matchbox of an apartment did.

"Hey," Bucky called from the bathroom. Steve walked the four steps to the bathroom that resided just outside their bedroom and poked his head in to see that, much to his delight, his boyfriend was shirtless and freshly shaven. Bucky saw Steve in the clouded mirror and spun around to face him.

"God, you still look half-frozen," he exclaimed before pulling the smaller man into him. Normally Steve would protest when Bucky's arms enveloped him but he couldn't be more thankful for the immediate warmth. Steve returned the embrace, his skeletal fingers pressing into the ripples of muscle in Bucky's back.

Bucky knew better than to hesitate when he actually had Steve in his grasp. He flipped the bathroom light out with his left hand and practically waltzed Steve to their very crowded full size bed that nearly took up the entire room. To maximize space, the bed had been pushed up again the far wall so Bucky climbed in first, pulling Steve down in front of him. They made a coupled effort to get the proper amount of blankets and sheets just right. By the time they were settled Bucky's warm torso was pressed against Steve's bony, still-frigid back. His hand roamed under the blankets in search of Steve's fingers and didn't cease until he possessed them.

The older man hesitated before he said anything. It was an unspoken rule that they didn't exchange gifts at Christmas. Their budget simply wouldn't allow it. That didn't stop Bucky from wanting to break said unspoken rule.

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"What do you want for Christmas?"

"Buck," Steve droned. He was too worn out and cold to remind him of, yet again, the laundry list of reasons they, yet again, could not partake in the Christmas tradition of exchanging gifts.

Bucky huffed. "_If_ we were going to exchange gifts, what would you ask for?"

Steve thought for a moment. A few new brushes would be nice, or possibly a set of blank canvases he could paint and hang on their barren apartment walls. _No_, Steve decided, _a tree would be nice_. He cleared his throat and decidedly answered, "I wouldn't really want anything. Just a Christmas tree. It would be nice to have a tree for once."

The taller man nodded and dropped several chaste kisses to the side of Steve's neck. Had it not been so late Bucky probably would have pushed his luck and let his hands wander but he didn't. It was past midnight and he knew Steve was due at work by eight in the morning. They definitely weren't looking forward to it but they had decided long ago that they would do what was deemed necessary to make ends meet. It wasn't so bad, really, especially when they had eight hours to dream together.

* * *

"Coffee?" Steve asked the following morning. Bucky glanced up from his bowl of generic Froot Loops and shrugged. "Yes or no?" the blond pressed.

Usually Bucky would stop by the corner store on the way to work to refill his travel coffee mug. It was only $0.50 to refill but Bucky didn't feel like leaving three minutes early to make the stop. But, he also didn't want to be subjected to Steve's weak coffee.

"Fine," Bucky finally decided.

Steve felt Bucky's eyes burning into his back and purposely reached for a mug on the second shelf of the cabinet just to prove that _no_, he didn't need Bucky to help him reach things on taller shelves. He poured a black cup of coffee and put it down on the table next to Bucky's cereal bowl and Bucky caught Steve by the wrist.

"Bucky," Steve chastised, trying to pull away. "I have to go."

"Aw, c'mon! Humor me."

The shorter man sighed but complied, leaning down to kiss the corner of Bucky's mouth. "I gotta go."

"Love you, punk."

Steve grabbed his satchel from the floor beside the table and glanced at his boyfriend again. "I love you, too," he whispered, rushed, and pecked Bucky's lips once more before dashing through the apartment door.

* * *

In the early hours of Friday morning Bucky and Natasha were the only ones left in the bar. The air between them was comfortable, filled only by the clinking of glasses as Natasha loaded them into the stemware rack that hung above their heads.

Bucky sort of dreaded asking Natasha the question because he knew he'd be in for a questioning. He inhaled sharply before asking, bluntly, "Can I have your day shift Saturday?"

"Why?"

Bucky rolled his eyes slightly. _Always with the damn interrogations._ "I need the extra hours," he explained. He figured it was a good enough answer and he was determined not to tell Natasha that he needed the extra cash to buy Steve the tree he yearned for.

Natasha stepped back momentarily and traced her fingertip along the rim of the glass she was holding. She studied Bucky's face and came to the conclusion that she probably shouldn't press the matter. She hadn't had a day off all week and Saturdays are always their busiest days. "Sure," she answered simply.

* * *

Steve woke when Bucky crawled into bed behind him. He hadn't been sleeping much. He never did when Bucky worked night shifts. He simply couldn't rest comfortably until Bucky was settled in bed behind him. As an arm slipped around his waist, Steve lifted his head and turned his cheek just slightly for Bucky to kiss, lying it down only after chapped lips pressed against warm skin.

* * *

Saturday morning approached rapidly and Steve was perplexed when Bucky stumbled into their kitchenette at eight in the morning. He glanced up from his newspaper with a squint, asking, "Why are you up?"

"I took Natasha's day shift," Bucky answered, heading straight for the coffee pot. He was too tired from the previous night to complain about Steve's weak coffee. Instead, he opted for black with two sweeteners. His steps to their breakfast were careless and messy, causing his coffee to splash over the lip of his chipped mug and land on the peeling linoleum floor. Steve sighed quietly as his boyfriend made no move to clean up the mess.

"So you'll be off tonight?"

"No, I'm working a double."

"Why?" Steve put his newspaper down. "You're exhausted already, you don't need-"

"I'll be fine," Bucky cut in.

"You got five hours of sleep. _Maybe_ five hours."

"We need the money."

Steve sighed because he couldn't really argue. He knew they needed every extra dime they could obtain. "Well, at least let me make you breakfast."

Bucky's lips turned up in a slight smile. "If you insist."

* * *

Much to Bucky's surprise and consternation, Steve was awake when he trudged through their apartment door. Steve's closed his book and, immediately upon seeing Bucky's black eye, clambered to his feet. "What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"Steve," Bucky sighed.

"Sit," Steve said emphatically, pointing to the breakfast table. Bucky was too tired to argue. His feet were throbbing and it was all he could do to trudge over to the table and plop down in a chair.

Steve crossed to the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen peas, pressing them to Bucky's eye. "Hold that there."

"It's not that bad."

"Did you eat? Of course you didn't eat." Steve muttered, diving into the refrigerator and resurfacing with sandwich ingredients.

"Steve, I'm fine."

The blond shook his head as busied himself with sandwich making. "You need to start taking better care of yourself. I hope you don't think this double shift thing is going to become habitual."

"Believe me; I know it's not." Bucky grimaced slightly as he repositioned the bag of peas. "So… is there anything I can say that will convince you to give me a foot rub?

"I'll think about it if you tell me what happened to your eye."

"I sorta got into a fight."

"You didn't fare too well," Steve concluded, glancing over his shoulder.

"I had him on the ropes."

Steve slapped the top piece of bread on Bucky's sandwich before sliding the plate in front of him. "Of course you did," he muttered, brushing his lips over his boyfriend's hair.

* * *

Bucky was fortunate enough to have the following Monday off. He opted to stay in bed rather than see Steve out the door on his way to work and woke around noon. He glanced out the window, not at all surprised to find that snow was falling heavily. He groaned because _o__f course_ it would be snowing on the only available day he had to sneak a Christmas tree into the apartment. Even then he heaved himself out of bed, pulled on the appropriate layers of clothing and grabbed his stashed tip money from the previous Saturday.

* * *

Fortunately, Bucky didn't have to venture too far from the apartment to the tree lot. Christmas was only 9 days away and, needless to say, the trees were very much picked over. They majority of them were too large and definitely out of the price range. He was sure that he wanted a cut of his budget to go towards light, tinsel and ornaments. That left him with a measly $20 tree budget.

After several minutes of haggling, Bucky managed to persuade the lot manager to sell one of the less-than-beautiful trees for, what he argued, was worth less than he would be paying. In Bucky's defense the 4-foot fir he selected was definitely not magazine worthy. Or even department store worthy. There were several large gaps that could not be filled with any amount of trimmings. But Steve pined for a tree, and Bucky concluded that any tree was better than no tree.

Transporting the tree was a less than desirable task in the snow, but in less than an hour Bucky hauled everything into the apartment and glanced at the clock. He had two critical hours to get the piece of shit tree in some sort of makeshift stand and decorated before Steve got home.

* * *

Outside, the sun had set and the snow fell relentlessly. As time passed, Bucky was successful in getting the tree upright and decorated. He stepped back to admire his work but found himself frowning instead. Even with the strands of multicolored lights, gold tinsel and plastic baubles, the tree still looked like absolute _shit_. It was crooked and Bucky could've sworn there were more needles on the floor than the tree. It was done, though, and he knew Steve would be walking in within the hour. He groaned as he looped through the apartment to cut the lights, settling on the couch shortly after.

Bucky had no intentions of dozing off but, thankfully, the sound of Steve's key entering the deadbolt brought him out of his light stupor.

Steve was perplexed immediately at the darkness, stepping into the entryway. "Bucky?" he called, his breath catching as he took in the sight of the colorful tree that didn't look nearly as bad with the lights off as it did with them on. "Bucky," Steve said softly, turning to see his boyfriend sitting in a very relaxed position on the couch.

Bucky straightened his posture, clearing his throat and saying, "Hey."

Steve crossed the room wordlessly and took Bucky's face between his thin, chilled fingers. Their lips met and even in the darkness Bucky could feel Steve's smile against his lips. They parted seconds later and Steve claimed a seat next to his boyfriend, leaning against his much stronger shoulder. "I-I don't even know what to say," he whispered admittedly. "It's beautiful."

Bucky snorted because if Steve knew what the tree really looked like, he definitely wouldn't be so awestruck. He probably should have turned the lights on, but opted to do that much later. "You like it?"

Steve nodded and seized Bucky's hand in the dim lighting. "You're sweet. I never imagined you'd ever think to do something like this."

"I just wanted to give you what you wanted," Bucky explained softly, giving Steve's hand a small squeeze. "There's no need to thank me, really. If you could only see what it looks like with the lights on," he snickered. "It looks like shit."

"Why?" Steve pondered, making a move to stand up.

"It just does." Bucky's grip tightened and he spun Steve so that they were facing each other. Steve complied with Bucky's soft "come here" and he straddled his boyfriend's lap.

"What?" Steve asked, taking Bucky's face in his hands once more.

"Merry Christmas, Baby," he retorted. He smirked at Steve's disgusted expression. They had agreed some time ago that Bucky could _never_ call Steve "baby" unless the circumstances were very particular. Bucky apparently thought this was one of those times.

"Don't you think I deserve some sort of reward?" Bucky then inquired. "I worked awfully hard to get you that tree."

"You're right, but I don't get paid until after Christmas." Steve sighed in mock disappointment. "How am I ever going to repay you?"

"Oh, I can think of a few ways," Bucky grinned.


End file.
